Saving What Was Already Dead

Cowboy where's your gun?  Where's that desperado demeanor ?

I'm a faker.
I've done it before.
Bang Bang
dead.

And not to brag,
but it's simple.
Easy like
have your cake
and eat it too.
Fuck the bitch
then have her
pay you.
(Without cohesion.  A caustic chagrin administers the consequences of being so corroded.   We can't coexist without chemical reactions.  Acidic pheromones with furious side effects.  Committing acts of treason.)

Crippled mongoloid runs from algebraic equations.  Do not ask me to understand such concepts.  Gargoyles, cast in stone.  The monster caught in exhales of fractured obsidian, every granulate grateful for aptitude's explusion.
I am blind, tar-pit pupils and alabaster illusions.
Do not bludgeon me with repetitive notions.  The decapitated carcass preaches logic with the vocabulary of a lumbering 'fool'.
Intelligence reduced to tooth pick, a splinter of common sense drowns among the driftwood.  One amid many.
I will not comprehend such complicated treachery.  A Simpleton not changing her mind, refusing to shave the wool from her pride.  Not a sheep or a follower, merely a 'fool.'

An idiot speaking theory to toddlers.  And no one recognizes each other, but my gums flap with fervent demeanor because I…feel   …something, and this mind is without description and incapable of comprehension.  So please, someone understand.








                                                   Clear away the culpable.
Therefore, this is home, not reality, not what I wanted.  Never wanted much,
but sometimes its fun to pretend.  Throat with sheathed swords.  He swore
they were only words but it felt
like knives.   How my palms clung with splitting skin.

Puddles of meat operating as lungs.  Manufactured life
siphoned through esophagus.
Look children, it's called "breathing".

No longer able to pump life from atmosphere.  
Hey, at least I tried, right?  Should have seen it in
the saw-toothed dialogue.  Why speak
with such intention?  Daggers of reverberation
surpassing my ribcage,
my armor.  Infiltrating the circulatory system,
a last line of defense.  My erratic rhythm panics
as verbal infliction injures sternum.  Chambers
maimed beyond structure
bleed into one another
as weary tissues manage
one last
thud.

Remind the ghost.  Wander with translucent membranes,
glass organs functioning with shadow fluid.  It won't seem to work,
a heart of cardio-crystal.  A spirit, but the body has died of
cardiac invasion; a vital muscle that palpitates liquefied air.
Dead.  Sayonara.  
Adios, you're gone.





Not precisely alive, but something along those lines.
(is it so bad,
to disappear?)




Disregarded fangs solidify into this saber-toothed villain.  Recognize
that I am vicious, willing to infect innocent flesh.  The threat of black widow eyes.  
Dismembering objects of love.



To kill it,
before it kills you.